


four times the piemaker sort of kissed chuck (and the one time he really did)

by austen



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austen/pseuds/austen





	four times the piemaker sort of kissed chuck (and the one time he really did)

Within the past seven days, four hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen seconds, the plastic wrap dispenser at The Pie Hole had seen more use for activities that it was not actually meant for.

This was a reality that was not lost on Emerson, who, after witnessing the most recent kiss-that-was-not-a-kiss between Chuck and the piemaker, was almost tempted to go back to his favorite pastime of eating ice cream just so he wouldn't have to _look_ at them. However, his gradually thinning waistline was a reminder that he might be able to avoid more Pooh jokes from the dead girl ("_Un_dead girl. Silly old bear," said Chuck with a grin.)

That morning, the piemaker had walked into the kitchen to find Chuck already hard at work. But when she looked up, in place of the normally resplendent smile that generally greeted him, a large pair of red wax lips had taken its place.

"What exactly are you do—" She silenced him with a wave of her hand, motioning to another pair that had been resting next to the bowl of peaches on the table.

That was when he understood, and picking up the mouth, he bit down on the end. She rose up on the tips of her toes and, wrinkling her nose in concentration, pressed her candied lips against his. It was actually more of a smash than a kiss, and when it eventually broke, she pulled the wax from her mouth and smiled slightly.

"Good morning," Chuck finally said, and went back to rolling dough.

*

"I didn't know you were doing this again." Chuck turned to face Ned with a surprised expression in her eyes, an empty glass jar in one hand. The buzzing bees behind her also voiced their approval of her return to harvesting their honey, and Ned began to move closer in order to watch her work.

"Not too close," she warned, lifting a gloved finger in warning, and, with a nod, he relented, crossing his arms over his chest to keep a safe distance. It wasn't as though distance between them was a new concept.

Besides, from here he was able to actually get a better glimpse. Her features were obscured by the mesh hanging around her head, but Ned knew she had a smile on her face. Truthfully, she didn't even need the beekeeper's suit, for the bees knew that Chuck had a tender touch. All at once, Ned was plagued by the overwhelming feeling of jealousy. He knew it was rather silly to be jealous of a bee, but, as he stood there watching her fill the empty jars with golden honey, he ached to be a bee, or Digby, or even Emerson. Someone who could touch her without losing her forever.

"Do you think you could take this to Honey for the Homeless for me?" she asked, returning triumphantly with the honey. "It might be difficult for me to explain my sort of not-dead status."

With a smile, he took the jars from her hands, and through the netting of her hat, they shared another almost-kiss.

*

Every so often, Chuck liked to pretend she was in an old film, and when she did that, she would wear her favorite pair of elbow-length white silk gloves. When she did that, the piemaker found, to his delight, that he could hold her hand without fear of her dying. Again.

Sometimes, if Ned didn't think much about their extremely unique situation, he could almost pretend that they were like a real couple. But he never stopped thinking long enough to forget that he couldn't truly touch her.

They went to the movies one night, and Chuck wore her gloves. They held hands in line for their tickets, in the theatre during the previews, and during a particularly frightening moment, Chuck clutched on to Ned's forearm in the dark.

By the time the movie had ended, it was raining, and both the piemaker and Chuck were sufficiently soaked to the bone as they stood outside the door of the apartment. Neither had moved to go inside yet, and Ned thought to himself then that, with her dripping hair and her glowing skin, Chuck had never looked more beautiful.

Chuck extended a wet gloved hand to him, her wrist elegantly curled, and Ned took it gently in his own. Unsure of what to do at first, but finally comprehending (after all, he _was_ her Prince Charming), he pressed his lips to her silken knuckles. Through the wet fabric, he imagined he could almost feel the warmth of her skin.

*

They were in the park one morning, sitting on a bench side-by-side. Chuck had removed her gloves – a black pair this time, since they had just come from the funeral home – and Ned was seriously considering removing his jacket since the weather was bordering on the edge of uncomfortably muggy and Emerson and his car were still nowhere to be seen.

A breeze relieved them from their sticky fate then, and Ned couldn't help but notice, out of the corner of his eye, the way it stirred the dark curls framing Chuck's face. She was oddly content despite the unpleasant weather and the fact that they had just taken a confession from someone who had been murdered by drowning.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, observing her eyes as they latched on to something, tracking its movement.

Chuck leaned down to let a butterfly hop onto her bare finger, and, slowly bringing it up, held it close enough to Ned's cheek until he could feel the flutter from its wings against his face.

"Butterfly kisses," she explained, and let the butterfly drift away on the wind, slipping her hand back into her glove.

*

Any time Ned thought about Chuck's lips, he couldn't actually picture what they might feel like now. In his mind, he could only remember the only real kiss they had ever shared, when she was eight and he was nine.

It had been soft, gentle. Like a hopeful promise and a heartrending goodbye.

Perhaps, if Ned had stayed in Coeur d'Coeurs, they would have shared more kisses, and those kisses would have turned into familiar habits instead of creative risks.

The piemaker thought about that every time they found a loophole in the rule, but he would rather have Chuck alive at arm's length than dead in his arms.


End file.
